Mandatory Post-Baguio Boitday Inggitan Blog Entry

15 09 2010

Babe(?) in the woods.

Baguio’s always awesome, and last weekend’s last-minute birthday getaway was worth it. It was 3 days and 2 nights of being happy and cold and well-fed, and I wouldn’t have traded it for the usual pity party I throw myself each year — the one involving me, a mall, a bit of saved-up cash, and a false sense of abandon.

True, the place wasn’t as cold as it used to be, but it was still sufficiently nippy. Still had that crisp mountain chill. And it rained quite a bit when we were there, which made the air a bit more freezetastic. Hay, I hate the sun.

"Miss, magkano?"

The man-slave, of course, was in tow. Besides being excellent arm-meat throughout this adventure, he was also an excellent haggler, which made finding good accommodations at 4:30 AM a piece of cake. In case anyone was wondering, it was a clean room in a transient lodge, with a queen-sized bed, cable TV, your own bathroom with a hot shower, daily breakfast, and proximity to Burnham Park. 1k a night. A very sweet deal.

Take THAT, lesser attractive tourist couple!

The man-slave hadn’t been to Baguio in a while, so we went to the usual tourist-ridden spots. Asked a stranger to have our picture taken at the Mines View suicide ledge (after he stopped staring in disbelief at our disposable camera); bought jams and cookies from nuns; mocked the swan boat riders at Burnham Park; scrambled through the rickety wagwagan labyrinth, etc.

The man-slave wanted to have our picture taken in full-on Igorot garb next to a full-on lola Igorot, but there was only so much blatant cultural exploitation I could take.

The fat of the land.

Most of our time was really spent eating, though. Had the best birthday breakfast ever at my all-time fave Cafe by the Ruins: butter-smothered French toast with honey-citrus syrup, fresh fruit, serious slabs of bacon, butter-smothered tuna/salmon sandwich, soft herbed bread with sharp herbed cheese, baked kamote fries, and the strongest cups of coffee. Goddamn.  And the best part: a large pizza in Manila cost more than our final bill.

Eating the fat of the land.

Speaking of pizzas, we also latched on to Vizco’s, this non-descript den of deliciosity on Session Road which served tasty, tasty Italian food and the best strawberry shortcake bar none. Wrap n’ Roll at Camp John Hay’s Filling Station was also awesome; their beef kebabs were as thick as textbooks.

The fat of the land (is in my thighs).

And no last-second vacay would be complete without an afternoon stuck in the woods. After scarfing down the kebabs, we decided to take a leisurely stroll down Camp John Hay’s EcoTrail, which we imagined would be a lovely little path lined with bounteous florae, where we could slow-burn the bricks of meat in our bellies and just generally, y’know, commune with nature etcetera etcetera.

Disoriented woodland creature.

Don’t let these pictures fool you. That was some serious Rambo shit we did up there.  It wasn’t a trail, even. It was a stream of mud with the occasional loosened rope bridge snaking its way up and down god knows how many steep little hills.

SUCK IT, Henry David Thoreau!

Unfortunately, my man-slave and I are no longer well-versed in this ‘physical exertion’ thing, so we did more of a heaving clamber than a stroll. At every turn or dip of the hill, we thought we had reached the end, only to scramble onward and find another hill or trench in wait.  We were there for an hour.

Call of the wild.

But we did get awesome pictures.

Mandatory Pose-before-Local-Artwork Baguio Picture

Naturally, I felt a little sad on our last night, all emo’d out on the Oh My Gulay! balcony overlooking the city. But I was even sadder once we hit Manila. I’m usually very vocal about my love for this mangled metropolis, usually see myself as a pure and proud product of its grit and artifice, but I was absolutely devastated to be home that day.

I’m considering this a sign of maturity.




6 responses

17 09 2010

The inggitan, it works! Belated happy. 🙂

20 09 2010

Hihi. Tenkie, Kat! 🙂

29 09 2010

Sorry to break the news, but you aren’t mature. Never will be. WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAbonk.

Lovely post, bacilli. 🙂

29 09 2010

This coming from a grown woman who sticks pencils up her nose.

1 10 2010

Correction: Pencil. In singular form.

2 10 2010

the lady(?) doth protest too much.

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